It was an afternoon some fifteen years ago, when a
young man of Mylapore entered Sir P. S. Sivaswami Aiyar’s library in his
palatial ‘Sudharma’. The portly figure, seated at a spacious table and holding
a book in his right hand, eyed the intruder somewhat scrutinizingly over his
pair of reading glasses. There was a slight twitching of the mouth accompanying
that already disturbed glance of his. This was enough to unnerve the young
friend and make him feel guilty of some grave misdemeanour. There was, however,
no lack of the usual exchange of courtesies between them.
The purpose of that unceremonious entry was soon
disclosed. A request fell from the young man’s lips for a book from Sivaswami
Aiyar’s library. And it caused a fresh wrinkle on the face of the old
gentleman. He looked embarrassed, though he slowly relaxed his countenance and
catechised his young visitor thus:
“Why do you require this book?”
“Because I need it for a thesis I am preparing.”
“I see; but are you aware of the utter scarcity of
copies of this publication in the market? Don’t you know there are only two or
three libraries in Madras possessing copies of it? Moreover, there is no near
prospect of a fresh edition.”
The young man was not posted with information on
any of these points. So he remained confused and silent.
Sivaswami Aiyar then relented a bit. He was
evidently changing his mind. He was heard to say again: “Well, if you will not
take a refusal from me, you may have to assure me on the following points: that
you will not lend it to anyone else, and that you will use the volume
carefully, without opening the pages wider than necessary or leaving the book
unclosed on the table when you are not reading it.”
The listener looked more perturbed than ever,
though no reply emerged from him. But Sivaswami Aiyar was not silent; he once
again shifted his position. He said: “Or, you do one thing. You can go over to
my place and do the reading in my library. You will not be disturbed here.”
The last suggestion clearly indicated how unwilling
Sivaswami Aiyar was to lend his books. There was not even an attempt to hide
his point view. It was all very definite, and very dispiriting to the young man
had hardly devoted a minute to the possibility of a refusal. He had no
alternative except to go home without the book and ponder over that interview
with the owner of such a precious library. Once the vexation had passed, and
reflection enabled the mind to view things clearly, the attitude of Sivaswami
Aiyar towards books seemed quite understandable. The occasion served to
enlighten the uninitiated mind how to value the company of those “kings and
statesmen lingering……in those anterooms–our book-case shelves.”
Sivaswami Aiyar believed it was perfectly normal
for anybody to guard jealously the books he had purchased and preserved with
care. How could he brook the thought of their being used carelessly or borrowed
without a due sense of responsibility? His own partiality for books, and the
long hours he spent exclusively in their company, made him ignore one of the
‘Five Laws of Library Science’ emphasising the use of books by all. Well, he
could have argued, if charged with violating the maxim ‘Books for all’, that he
did not know such a rule applied at all to private libraries. Anyway, Sivaswami
Aiyar never concealed that it was a wrench for him to part with books to
anyone.
The ennobling company of rich minds was always at
his beck and call. He could go into his vast library and minister to their
comfort. For such a large collection of books, the ‘missing’ volumes were very
few: he was so strict in letting anyone have the use of his books. The love he
bore them was unique. They were never exposed to insects nor allowed to have
even a speck of dust on them. Every inch a scholar, he was imbued with a spirit
of wide and regular study, because of the spacious times to which he belonged.
In his youth, culture meant a knowledge of something of everything and
everything of something. Naturally, therefore, he had avidity for ready
reference to any book be desired. Moreover, his book-habit was such that,
without recourse to verification of information from them, he would hardly
speak of his impressions of any of them. If he was making any public pronouncement
or giving a statement to the Press, he could never be found guilty of
misquoting authors or misrepresenting their ideas.
On a closer analysis of Sivaswami Aiyar’s mental
make-up, one could perceive an assiduously cultivated intellectual honesty,
which formed the seat, as it were, of his disciplined outlook on life. And we
know it is none-too-easy a process for anyone to convince himself of the
necessity for such an intellectual honesty in every thought of his. Sivaswami
Aiyar, however, made it his ‘prime care’ in life. It undoubtedly saved him
often from floundering upon rocks of prejudices when borne on the high seas of
public life. While it is true he could not sympathise either with the
non-co-operation movement launched by the Congress in the twenties of this
century or with its high-priest of Satyagraha, it is noteworthy that he never
spoke a word in private about that ‘saint in politics’ which he was not
prepared to proclaim in public. By his criticism of the great leader of the
Indian masses, he faced unpopularity and carping comment. It may be startling
indeed to be told he rarely mouthed the appellation of ‘Mahatma’ when he
referred to him. It might even have appeared unpatriotic to adhere to plain
‘Mr. Gandhi’ when all the world adopted ‘Mahatma’ as the most proper epithet to
describe that great man. Still Sivaswami Aiyar, for reasons known to himself,
preferred to omit it in his none too frequent references.
Again, if he could not agree with the politics of
some individuals, he did not for that reason allow his judgment of their
personal qualities to get clouded. No doubt, Sri Satyamurthi often offended
Sivaswami Aiyar’s, sense of propriety by his torrential and vituperative
arraignment against the Liberal Party. But Sivaswami Aiyar could never
reconcile his conscience to an under estimate of the abilities of Sri
Satyamurthi as an orator, or as a debater in the Central Assembly. Nay, he
could not suppress even his personal satisfaction at Satyamurthi’s great
performances in the House in connection with the opposition to the passing of
the Criminal Law Amendment Bill.
He always carried with him an academic mind which
would never take anything for granted, nor change its views in response to an
emotional appeal. He never liked to be drawn unawares into controversies which
were likely to produce heat, but maintained at the same time an open mind to
receive any arguments that might or might not eventually influence him. Also,
he could watch any discussion without the least impatience to join in himself,
or to judge of its merits unasked. If Gandhiji’s philosophy of Ahimsa struck
him as not entirely based upon Hindu thought as disclosed by our ancient texts,
he would never rush to the Press or the platform with his own favourite
theories. Rather, he would wait long enough before coming to a decision that he
should express himself upon the subject. Bu he would not be keeping quiet in
the interval. He would consult old texts, pore over tomes and do research work
with the aid of his trustworthy Pandits in the allied topics of Ahimsa and
Asanga, and give out the benefit of his deep learning and assimilation
of ideas in a series of University lectures! These lectures reveal to many a
researcher, with half-baked theories and fads, what amount of pains and
endeavours to correlate thought with experience is necessary before one could
claim the attention of the world upon questions of such significance.
The extreme circumspection and deliberation he
evinced in whatever he did or said, made him unattractive to many a public
worker who had to contact him. He could not help his caution and care in his
approach to any problem, either of a domestic nature or of any public
importance. They became part of his personality, at the risk of causing
unfavourable impressions, sometimes even amidst his close friends. Again, he
had not in abundance the spark of imagination which could help one to cover up
drawbacks when brought among the tasks of real public life. All these made him
appear somewhat at a disadvantage by the side of another who was his equal in
almost everything, and had come up with him both in his college days and in the
legal profession–V Krishnaswami Aiyar. Krishnaswami Aiyar, from the beginning,
showed such an amazing fund of heart and nerve and such a powerful imagination
and ambition for achievement that Sivaswami Aiyar seemed, by his side, like the
tortoise in the story, content to keep a steady pace, though all the time sure
of his goal being reached. Neither swerving from what he had decided upon in his
calmer moments, nor deviating one hair’s breadth from his long cherished ideals
of conduct in life, he was at last able to convince the public as well as those
near him how very substantial, though any day much less spectacular than his
friend’s, was the record of his services to the country. Unmistakably,
Krishnaswami Aiyar’s was a forceful and magnetic nature, drawing to itself many
sharp and bright intellects and raising high hopes and expectations of a far
greater potentiality in its ultimate usefulness. The quenching of that fire at
the comparatively young age of forty-nine led even some of their common friends
to think that, by no stretch of imagination on their part, could Sivaswami
Aiyar benefit at all by a comparison with his departed friend. Still, when the
mind gets freed from highly speculative evaluations of personalities, the hard
fact remains that none should be judged by anything beyond what has actually
been derived from him by the world at large. Estimated in this manner, perhaps,
Sivaswami Aiyar’s contributions to his country cannot be deemed insignificant
in quality or inconsiderable in quantity.
One cannot forget also how Sivaswami Aiyar suffered
under an initial disadvantage, when he assumed the office of Member of the
Executive Council of the Governor of Madras in quick succession to his friend
Krishnaswami Aiyar. Even the great Gokhale, no mean judge of men and affairs,
grew impatient, it was said, when, as a member of the Public Services
Commission which visited Madras in 1912, he had to deal with Sivaswami Aiyar.
To a friend by his side Gokhale is reported to have said, on finding the
slowness of Siva swami Aiyar’s progress during the enquiry; “My friend
Krishnaswami would have plucked the heart out of the subject and made his points
in fifteen minutes.” Well, this remark only brings out that Gokhale had
evidently more in common with his recently departed friend and therefore could
not appreciate the methodical brain of Sivaswami Aiyar. If only Gokhale had
lived some more years, he would surely have joined in the chorus of praise of
Sivaswami Aiyar’s infallible approach to public questions and his thoroughness
of work, enabling a world, which was not watching him at the time, to have the
satisfaction of a unique self-sufficiency and masterliness of draughtsmanship
in the Reports for which he was responsible. Maybe he was not quick in action,
but all the same some of his outstanding acts reveal the happy combination in
him of precept and practice in an adequate proportion.
Though Sivaswami Aiyar always impressed people by
his predominantly serious bent of mind, he was not lacking in buoyancy of
spirits when in the company of young men. No doubt, his humour and liveliness
were not of the contagious variety. His mind never knew what facetious company
meant. Yet there was an enjoyable sense of inquisitiveness which he exhibited
in matters that were purely intellectual. Thus, if he came to know of a scholar
or savant making a speech anywhere, he would like to listen to him and make
sure whether the reputation he enjoyed was justified. He would even try to be
at the lecture-hall long before the scheduled time, in order to secure a good
seat within easy hearing. He would afterwards discuss with others who had
attended the lecture the points he was not sure of, and evoke some slight
laughter at others’ expense in case their understanding was not up to his
expectation.
Allied with his intellectual curiosity was his
reasoning faculty which showed no signs of weakening, despite his failing
health. He would be slow to yield to an adversary in an argument. Himself
requiring sufficient time to take breath or draw sustenance, he would be
prepared to allow his opponent equal facilities for equipment in a combat. If
the great Sri Ramachandra permitted Ravana in battle to return home and appear
on the morrow with a fresh chariot in place of the demolished one, Sivaswami
Aiyar was no less an adherent of the dictates of fair-play in a discussion,
when he found himself pitted against another. Once when Sivaswami Aiyar had to
say something strong by way of criticism of Indian Art and its exponents of the
Bengal school, a young enthusiast met him in argument on everything he uttered.
Then the old man expanded his lips and said to the young adversary: “You seem to
have cultivated a real sense of art. I am not, I should confess, speaking from
regular knowledge of the existing books on Indian Art or from personal
experience of the original specimens of Indian paintings. Let me, therefore,
first equip myself by a study of the subject. Kindly also give me a list of
good books on the subject, if you please.” Nothing more need be said to prove
his earnestness to find the truth for himself, even regarding subjects from
which he instinctive withdrew.
People who had known him in his younger days as a
lawyer of mark could bear witness to his careful preparation of briefs and to
his accurate presentation in the courts. Those who had opportunities of
knowing, at close quarters, his work in the Executive Council could speak to his
independence of outlook and mellowness of judgment on matters vitally affecting
our Province. Unostentatious service and an inborn hatred of fuss of all kinds
distinguished him while in power. His sterling worth as a Servant of the Crown
was known to the world outside only long after, when his successors to the same
office looked into his previous Minutes on questions of importance, exhibiting
a refreshing impartiality and a robust patriotism.
Even his now-famous endowments at Tirukkattupalli
and Mylapore to the cause of high school education for boys and girls
respectively, became known widely much later than their periods of incubation
and inception. For instance, so long ago as 1906 he had taken over the
management of the high School at Tirukkattupalli with all its financial
responsibilities, but it was only at a much later period that the fact of his
having set apart a portion of his hard earnings for philanthropic acts was
divulged to the public. Further, his last will and testament disposing of all
his remaining properties d personal belongings to ever so many public
institutions and private individuals in his service, got never fussed about
anywhere in Mylapore, where he had lived for more than sixty years and
contracted relationships with the people both rich and poor. As a matter of
fact, he laid upon the executors of his will the strict injunction not to give
out its provisions as long as his breath lasted. Every little act of service
rendered loyally to him, and every small institution of public utility within
his personal purview, received his benefaction under the will. None round about
him had cause to complain unrequited service of a lifetime rendered to him. He
never hankered after expressions of gratitude or appreciation from his beneficiaries,
and that was the sole reason for his preventing knowledge of his dispositions
being made known to their recipients before his actual passing away. A world
which was not extra kindly disposed to him in his comparatively younger ways,
remains dumb today with a sense of profound regret that it had betrayed
shallowness and petty-mindedness in having minimized his generosity purse and
liberality of heart in the past. He was partly to blame for the state of
ignorance in which the people at large were kept regarding his munificence and
public spirit. For he never resorted to the arts of advertisement and publicity
of self, which, with our Western contact, we have almost perfected as an
institution for self-glorification in modern times.
Indeed, he was out and out a gentleman and remained
equally indifferent to popular applause or opprobrium in whatever he did. He
was happy if he did the just and proper thing according to his lights. However
much his close circle of friends tried to persuade him to change the name of
the National Girls’ School, Mylapore, into one associated with his name, he
refused, only adding that after his death they would be at perfect liberty to
change it in any manner they liked. The management has very pertinently
effected the change long desired by them, by calling the girls’ school as Lady
Sivaswami Aiyar’s Girls’ School, thereby associating his imperishable name with
the institution.
The good is oft interred with the dead, but the
evil they have done lives after them. This is an old saying. Sivaswami Aiyar
has left no children of his blood to inherit any defects of his. The
institutions he nourished for public good can only retain the good in him. No
personal element of Sivaswami Aiyar can be traced in any of these offsprings of
his heart and head, which are the priceless gifts of his impersonal attitude to
life and the world in general. Throughout his long life, he never did acts
whose main springs could be traced to motives of self-advancement. Even his
worse critics must have been silenced by his utter selflessness and soundness
of statesmanship. Nothing unbecoming can be whispered of him hereafter, For his
memory will ever evoke in the hearts of his grateful countrymen an impression
of solidity in scholarship, of refreshing sanity in public affairs, and of a
great respectability of character in all spheres of human endeavour.